Talking Skills
by Claudia Cel'arte
Summary: Tom Riddle couldn't love – that was for sure – at least not the way normal people usually did. But he certainly enjoyed talking to her. It was stimulating!
1. Something that wasn't mean to be found

**Chapter 1:** Something that wasn't meant to be found

**Author's notes: **first, I must warn you that English is not my mother-tongue (Portuguese is), so since I'm still a learner, I might do some mistakes – and not only that, as sometimes the story can also be a little limited by my lack of vocabulary and most of all, typical English expressions. What I mean is, the text may turn out to be a little too much "inflexible", if you know what I mean. And, well, even if you don't, the warning is already given, so… I have my conscience clean! '

As for the story, it is mostly about Tom Riddle, when he still was a Hogwarts student, a female made-up character of mine, and basically, their relationship. This is not going to be a romance, if that is what you're thinking about – or at least, not a conventional one, because I don't really believe Tom would be able to have such feelings. Oh, and about the spoilers, they cover everything up 'till the sixth book, including it.

**Disclaimer: **If you haven't figured it out yet, this is a fanfiction (with all its implications). So, if you still don't know what that is, go look somewhere else, because I'm not gonna explain to you. Dumbass!

**Summary: **Tom Riddle couldn't love – that was for sure – at least not the way normal people usually did. And he couldn't really understand it when people said that there was a thin line between hate and love – that was nonsense! But if there was something he truly enjoyed, that something was talking to her. It stimulated him.

I know, it sucks, but I couldn't think of anything else!

Oh, and I almost forgot: It is indeed true that my English is far from being flawless, but I promise you that I'll do my best. :-) Really!

* * *

Skipper wasn't the kind of girl to get in trouble often, if even at all. So, when she sensed something was around, she would just turn back her way and get as far as she could from it. And that included to fuss around other people's lives, because as far as she could tell, nothing of good could come out of minding other people's business. It was inconvenient, indelicate and, depending on the person, risky. She only had one single problem: she was a curious person, a _very_ curious person – which usually made her turn blank in an impasse, confused of what to do – but she was working on that.

So, when she travelled to London on that hot Summer day, she certainly didn't expect to find anything – or anyone - out of the ordinary, for three very simple reasons: first, because as a witch, she was used to deal with very strange things; second, because as a convict reader, she was too much open-minded for her own good; and third but not least, because, since she was good at getting away from trouble, she immediately presumed that she was completely safe from it. Well, she was just about to discover how wrong she was – little by little – and today would only be the start.

Tom Riddle hated summers, for three very simple reasons: first, because the hot weather made him sweat, and that was disgusting; second, because he pretty much hated almost everything around him; and third but not least, because it was that time on the year when he couldn't help but be sent to that despicable orphanage again. He tried his best to fulfil his days studying and ignoring those around him, but even at his best efforts, it was impossible to get rid of that terrible feeling of drowning in mud. He hated being around those mudbloods, he hated being away of Hogwarts, and most of all, he hated being a half-blood orphan, and having to depend on other people's kindness. Longed was the day of his independence!

Still, it was curious to notice that one might say young master Tom didn't really support such feelings, for he was always kind and caring for those around him, and in the orphanage, many were the girls' day-dreaming about him. The staff loved him, for he was always helpful; and even the boys admired him. He was the perfect illustration of courtesy and politeness – so convincing and multifaceted that many actors could learn from his example. Only his eyes betrayed him, always as cold as stone – but people were usually too charmed up by other aspects of his person to even notice that. Specially said girls!

Struggling to survive another Summer, Tom, at least, could congratulate himself for once again being able to hide his true whereabouts every time holidays started. He definitely could not, by any chance, afford having his classmates at Hogwarts discovering about his true origins. He would do just about anything to avoid that; so when on that fateful day, Skipper turned on the corner of the Helmet Street with the main intersection of the Morris Avenue, turning on the right and then turning to the left, she was certainly lucky that he didn't notice her walking by, since he was too much busy reading a book.

She, however, had noticed him. With her eyes wide open, the pupils travelled from the boy through the window to the sign with the orphanage name one and one more time again. «It can't be him!», she though. «What would he do at a place like this?». Staring persistently trying to find any thing that would dismiss the new found truth, Tom sensed her, and as he looked through her direction, she kept walking fast before he could recognize her.


	2. The question that's been burning

**Chapter 2:** The question that's been burning

**Author's notes: **I know the last chapter was kinda boring, but I really had to make it. Don't expect this one to be all that better, but still, there must be some improvements on the action. I hope you enjoy! o/

Oh, and by the way, I invented the directions in the last chapter… I hope the description is not too lame! I'll also have to make a description on this one, although of a different thing, and I really hope it's not very confusing. It wasn't my intention. Feel free to make some corrections, if you want. :-) And review too! I'm a little nervous with this whole thing, publishing a fanfic and, as if it wasn't enough, doing it in English… Oh well!

**Disclaimer: **Go read the disclaimer in the first chapter. Then go read a dictionary. Then get to understand that a fanfiction is a fan's work, and that we do this because we love it, and not because we want some share of Rowling's fortune (actually, I wouldn't really mind, but you get the point, I hope). Besides, it's not like this is worth something. I know I wouldn't pay for it:-P

**Summary:** It shouldn't be necessary by now, should it?

* * *

Skipper kept walking for a long, long time, her mind wandering lost on what she had just found out. She was a little confused. «Tom Riddle, at an orphanage?» It didn't make sense. It was true that she barely knew him, at least personally, because in a general way he was too much popular to be ignored. And although every one at Hogwarts praised him, fact was that he himself didn't talk that much about his life. He liked to keep some secrecy, and even she had noticed that a long time ago. Why, it was unknown. How, when every student kept trying to befriend him and know more about him, could only be explainable by the constant feeling of respect he imposed around him, like some kind of perfume. No one wanted to annoy him, as fuss about his life would.

Still, not all the students were that scrupulous. Specially the ones from Slytherin, with whom he had to deal everyday. Eventually, it was only natural that someone would confront him, moved by jealousy or just plane and uncontrollable curiosity. Certainly, many girls liked the mysterious type, but aside from them, everyone was pretty much annoyed by it. Not that people would spend that many time thinking about it. Tom was not that interesting. «But eventually… Eventually, something would have to be found!», her mind yelled.

She could only imagine how it had been in the beginning, when he was just an eleven old kid entering a new school without anything of special about him, or at least that people could tell right away. «I mean, it's not like he had a scar right in his forefront and had destroyed the most evil wizard of all times at an young age, right?». An eleven old prick, of whom no one knew anything about, didn't impose enough respect to repeal all kind of snooping people. And to say that there are always kids more than eager to find out more about their future classmates is an understatement. She herself had suffered on the hands of one or two girls so desperate to befriend her, as lonely as they felt about leaving home and knowing no one on this new stage of their lives, that their efforts to synthesize their whole lives in just one train trip from London to wherever Hogwarts was, was certainly remarkable. And they always expected the other person to act likewise, for it would only be fair (although no one ever asked them talk in the first place).

So someone _had_, at some point, to have made him some sort of inquisition. That was for sure. Still, the burning question remained: how had he managed to deal with it?

She didn't know, for she would only enter school on the year after that one (and Skipper never really made an effort to know, as it could bring her trouble), but truth remained that somehow he had been successful 'till now, 5 years later, and that only was even more remarkable than whatever some babbling girls did.

And what about her being the one to find it all? She never even looked for it, not even once! Skipper liked to read and to keep informed, but not about _gossip_! That was _too much information_! And too much information often leaded to trouble. It had been an accident, a coincidence. She had been about to walk by the building when she had to stop to let some kids get in with a teacher. Involuntarily, they dragged her attention upon the front door, while she patiently waited for them all to enter it, since the sidewalk was small. Sighting, her eyes deviated a little to the right, where the window was. Then, she saw _him_. It took just one or two minutes for that to happen, and there it was.

But giving it second though, she concluded that it would be all fine as long as she kept quiet about it. Tom hadn't seen her, so basically, now both had a little secret to keep, difference being that Skipper knew Tom's and he didn't know about hers, which was exactly the fact that she had found about his secret.

Not that she was scared or something! Tom Riddle was like the ultimate gentleman – he would never do something that might trouble him later. He was perfect! _Too_ perfect, actually, but again, that was none of her business!

So, basically, Skipper decided to pretend not to know a single thing about the matter.

_Tom Riddle wasn't an orphan! Tom Riddle didn't live in an orphanage during summer holidays! And maybe if he did – well, who was she to know such a thing? She was clueless! She knew nothing! She didn't even want to know! _She was just running back at the orphanage, in the hopes of catching one more glance of him and make sure it was Tom. _Hence, she didn't know, but she HAD to know, just so she could pretend not to know again, because otherwise she could very well be pretending not to know something that she had never known because it was a mistake and she had confounded Tom Riddle with some other boy in the first place!_

And there it was: a big dirty building, amongst many others, all of which looked just like the same. The difference was the sign. It didn't even have space on the outside for the children to play; it was just like any other building, but bigger. Out of the front door, there was a small flight of stairs 'till the ground, and then, one would only have to walk more 2 meters 'till a regular sidewalk, all the way being sidestepped by some pleasant flowerbeds. This time, she was on the opposite side of the street, in order to have a better view from the place she was, because she found out that she couldn't go on for more that 15 meters from it. She didn't want him to see her, by any chances. It would be embarrassing for both, because he certainly wasn't proud of having to be there, being all secretive and all... But that way, she couldn't make sure if it was really him! «Oh, what a dilemma!», she though. Her mind went blank, and her shoes glued to the ground. She could be prudent, go away, and protect herself from trouble; but then, she would forever be stick to annoying «what if's». And there she was on an impasse again, despite her best efforts to act cool!

She tried to rationalize the situation: for one side, her prudent self was struggling to win; for the other side, her curiosity, with the building almost shining in anticipation. It had red wine walls, and suddenly, she found herself imagining a small inner demon trying to talk to her, and a little angel trying to get her back to her senses. She listened harder: «Go, go», her inner demon said appealingly. And then: «Go, go!», her inner angel also said. And so she did. «NO, not that way, not that way – THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!», the angel cried. But it was too late. And as she went closer and closer, Tom Riddle in person stepped out of the building, and almost jumping in a scare, she fled immediately in the opposite direction. She was gone in a second, unnoticed.


	3. Autumn goodbye

**Chapter 3:** Autumn goodbye

**Author's notes: **Man, you wouldn't believe how many times I've went to check the stats page of this fic. I'm paranoiac, and unless you let me a review, I'll get this terrible idea that no one has been enjoying it! Well, maybe no one has (lol); but I believe that if you've come all the way 'till here, it can't be that bad, can it? Take on the example of Lord of the Weasley Lampost! He reviewed:-D And by the way, thank you Lord! It was so inspiring to read my first review on this fic! It made me have renewed will to write!

Oh, and one more thing (this one is very important, as I should have posted it in the second chapter): I totally made up the orphanage. I mean, I can't remember if the book supported some kind of description, and now I don't have it with me to check it out. Besides, I needed it to be that way. I'm really sorry if I bothered you!

**Disclaimer: **Blah, blah, blah! I said: blah, blah, blah! Satisfied?

* * *

Summer holidays went by without any more incidents, and Skipper was already in the Hogwarts express when her best friend arrived. Through the window, she immediately recognized her, because although she had her back turned, Skipper was able to see her parents next to her. She called and waved at them, to which they responded likewise. Shortly after, Bridget joined her in the carriage. 

As Skipper could finally look clearly at her best friend's face, ready to say a cheery "hi" as she always did, her jaws dropped, "hi" in the middle.

- You like it? – Bridget asked, showing her face from many angles.

- What happened to you?

- I took it off with magic! Dad finally had authorization from the doctor.

- Why, you look… - («almost pretty») – good! («for a change…»)

- Yeah, I know! – Then, she sighed dramatically – Goodbye, huge, ugly, terrible birthmark, hello new nose!

- But when did you do it? You never wrote about it in any of the letters.

- I wanted to surprise you, silly, and it looks like I did. – Bridget explained happily.

- Definitely!

- And look, I've also got a tan! – And, as to prove that she had indeed got tanned, Bridget got up and showed everything from her arms to her legs (she was wearing a dress).

- Cool…

- But you're still pretty white! – Bridget noticed, with some disdain in her voice.

- Yeah…

- And you haven't cut off your hair.

- Nor do I intend to…

- Well, maybe you should. It's too long, you know – And as Skipper gave her an annoyed look, Bridget insisted – What! It's already at you waist! Believe me, now they use short for fashion!

- Well, at least one of us looks good, then. – Said Skipper, sarcastically.

Bridget looked at her, confused.

- Who? – She asked. And as Skipper gave her again an annoyed look, she took it as a compliment, smilling profusely – Oh, thank you!

As the trip went by and Bridget talked about all the changes that had happened to her, and all the plans she had made for the "new Bridget", Skipper found out that it was impossible for her to focus on her friend. Her mind couldn't help to wander, as it often did. «Funny how a makeover can change a person», she though. «Suddenly, it's like she did a surgery to her brain, not to her nose» Still, Bridget was too excited talking about herself to notice.

- You know – Bridget said – It suddenly feels like I'm really a new person, because, well, every time I look in the mirror, well, I'm like a new person, really! It's amazing! I'm so optimistic now, like everything's gonna be alright, it's _amazing_!

Now everything was, _well_, "amazing".

Bridget shut up, dreaming about her own great expectations. Then it all began again. Skipper began to feel somewhat depressed. This was nothing like the previous years! Usually, they talked about both their plans (nothing related to beauty), played a little cards, told some jokes, and would even go to other carriages meet again some their classmates. «Maybe it's not too late…»

- Look, I'm very happy for you… But we've been talking about the same thing for over two hours! Can't we just drop the subject, and vary a little? – She asked, hoping she didn't sound indelicate.

Bridget gave her the most offended look, and Skipper immediately wished she had just kept quiet.

- Well, since my recent "updates" don't seem to interest you that much, maybe you can entertain me this time.

- Entertain you? – Repeated the long haired girl, almost amused with the usage of the word.

- Yes! So, tell me news! I mean, something you haven't told me yet by some of you letters, of course!

Tom Riddle's image reading at the orphanage's window immediately popped into her mind, and she bit her lip. «I can't tell her that!», Skipper though.

Meanwhile, Bridget took her sudden silence as a sign that the friend hadn't nothing worth of mention to talk about.

- See? – She said. – Nothing interesting happened to you, so since cool things happened to me, _someone_ has to keep this conversation alive, _right_?

Skipper looked dumbfounded at her. «Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom! Be right back», she said, and with that, she left the carriage.

Walking as fast as she could, Skipper locked herself in the bathroom. She didn't really need to use it, but it was a good way of gaining some liberty at least for some minutes.

She sat on the lavatory and closed her eyes for a moment, only enjoying the train's sound, while it shacked a little due to it's high velocity. She felt like being rocked, calming down. Then, she opened her eyes, and tried to make some sense out of her mind. «Bridget's being silly», she though. «But I know she's not like that!» Skipper paused to think, and concluded that her friend was probably just too much excited. «Once she gets used with her new self, she'll be back to being the smart and stubborn girl I befriended years ago». «Besides, it's not like a summer and some magic surgeries would make that much difference, right? She's different outside, and suddenly she thinks there's this new Bridget thanks to a tan and a birthmark that was removed – but a makeover can't really change that much, can it? I mean, does physical appearance matter that much?» And without even thinking about it, Skipper was talking to herself, putting her exact thoughts out of her mind and right into her mouth. Sometimes, it helped her reorganize herself.

- Well, I guess that depends on the person. – A voice said, and Skipper too distracted to notice it wasn't either her inner angel or her inner demon.

- Yeah, but Bridget was never like that. – She replied.

- How was she?

- Well… - Skipper gave the question deep though before replying – Truth is, now that I think about it, that Bridget did seem a little paranoiac with beauty sometimes. But not the way it would grab someone's attention. – She didn't know how to explain.

- How so, then?

- Well… - She paused again to think – She criticised those girls that used beauty as a way to go for after their goals. A lot. She was always talking about it. Or about popular boys who use their looks to go after silly girls, and act as playboys. But she did it so often that I just took it as her own personality. I mean, I though that it was natural for her to criticize things.

- But not that you think about it…

- I realize that she did it way too often. How weird! No, wait, maybe I didn't recall things properly.

- For how many time have you known her?

- Four years.

- Don't you think you would have noticed it earlier? Think harder, girl. – And the voice gave a small yawn, a little bit impatient. She was too focused to notice it. Inner angels and little demons never yawn. At least, not hers.

Skipper though about the matter. She though for a long, long time, as hard as she could, and suddenly everything was as clear as water. Bridget would always be the first to tell her to pick up her hair into a ponytail or something, because it didn't suit her to have it free, when everyone else envied it and said it was just great. If someone complimented her, Bridget would make her feel guilty for it. She also never said "hello" in the mornings, for she would already have some kind of comment ready about this one or that one girl, like «Look how her face is all covered up in makeup! It's incredible how in the name of beauty people will get as far as looking like clowns!». And when Skipper looked to said girl, she was not as half as bad as Bridget said. «Nonsense», she would say, but she would never think of it again. Or if Bridget caught some nice-looking guy innocently smiling to some girl, she would immediately say something of the sorts: «Just because he has white pearl teeth, it doesn't mean he has to show them off all day, always with his mouth all open. How disgusting! It's like suddenly he's great or something! Such a show-off!!». And again, Skipper would disagree, but give it no more though. It wasn't that she hadn't noticed.

- I was in denial, I guess.

- There you have, then.

And she smiled sadly to herself. She couldn't really condemn Bridget, when everyone around her made a pun out of her name to call her "London Bridge(t)", just because she was somewhat fat. «Hey, she's so fat that the entire Express of Hogwarts could pass through her without falling off!», they would say. And Skipper had never seen Bridget cry. She surely was strong, but she had to get her forces out of someplace. Maybe criticizing pretty people was her way of stressing out. After all, lack of beauty was her only "sin". Why did people give it such importance as to make her life a living hell? It had gotten easier over the years, because Bridget had lost a lot of weigh. Still, the scars were already there.

- But you know… - She continued – I have to support her, really. It's annoying, but it isn't as if suddenly she's a terrible person!

Her interlocutor arched an eyebrow in surprise, but she never saw it.

- She's my friend. It's true that she annoyed me, and that many times she was a little insensitive, but she was with me this whole time, and I have to try to see things a little for her own point of view, in order to understand her. She's that way, and I have to accept her the way she is, no matter how. – And thinking of the good times they both had spent together, she smiled more openly this time.

He didn't answer immediately. He had to give it some though, first. For some reason, her words had sink hard inside of him. It wasn't about beauty anymore.

- Pretty words. – He started - But you can never fully take someone as that person is. People talk about love, but is love really that powerful? I don't think so. – Somehow, the interlocutor's voice had grown somewhat resentful and harsh, even mocking.

- You talk as if you weren't part of the people that can love, as if you weren't one of us. – Skipper commented. – But I guess I get your point. I don't think most people can love to the extent of which you're talking about.

Her interlocutor smiled cynically, as if already predicting such an answer. There's wasn't such a thing as love for him. That was the excuse of the minds of the weak.

- But the way I see things – She continued, surprising him, since he didn't think there was any more to add about the matter – Some people, even evil people, were just born that way, so, they're no ones to blame, because they didn't have an option. Or sometimes, life just turns them into the persons they become in the future. Like, when they had to go through a lot, and… Well, you get the point, I guess. I'm not saying one could love them, but at least, try to understand. It would be a first, don't you think? And maybe, just maybe, someone could make the difference. I guess we'll never know! Gosh, this is so confusing! – And she gave a faint laugh. – Never say never, that's my final remark!

After a little pause to think, he asked:

- What is good, and what is evil, for you?

- That's relative. I don't have an answer. I just know that evilness is related with negative feelings, with trying to hurt other people, harm everything… - Once again, she tried to rationalize the whole point – A good person wants to help other good persons, and on a regular basis, they won't mind bad people unless they are prejudiced by them. Evil people are alone. They'll just try to harm pretty much everyone else, because love is a distorted notion in their hearts. So, that keeps things unbalanced, don't you think? For me, there's no thing as yin yang, or whatever that's called. Because they're alone, and they will always will! I pity them for it. For a good person, bad feelings are wrong. For a bad person, it just doesn't matter. They're insensitive to it. Gosh, it's hard to put things on perspective, but from my point of view, even if the whole world succumbs into darkness, and there's just a small amount of good persons, I know I'll be amongst them, and somewhere in my heart, I'll always pity the evil ones, because they probably never had a chance to love, and God knows how wonderful It is! I was lucky because, since I was given such feelings, I also am able to retrieve them. Evil persons don't even know how unhappy they are, because they never knew better. I pity them. I really pity them. Weird, isn't it? I know I wouldn't pity an assassin if he killed my mother, I would hate him instead, but putting things in perspective again, or trying to, it's like I'm unlucky because I lost my beloved one, but he's unlucky too because he wasn't given the opportunity to understand a humans' hearth as it is, and how bad is to kill a mother, because that mother can love us, and he wouldn't even be able to feel it. Evil people are always alone. In a way, they're always victims. And again… – She stopped, feeling as if she had talked too much.

- Go on. – The voice said. She bit her lip, and did as told.

- And again, it's all about taking the persons as they are. Good persons will always find happiness in the silliest things, because they were born that way. Evil persons not, so they end up being martyrs. If we see things upon their points of view, everything must be gray. I don't know… It's probably all about power, greediness, jealousy… Mostly power. They need power in order to fulfil that emptiness in their hearts. I don't think it's easy. In their point of view, that's the world as it is. Can we blame them for it? We can blame them for the horrible things they do, not because of their reasons and what they feel. Or actually, _don't_ feel. They didn't create that emptiness themselves. Their quest for power is their need for something more… Like, that there must be more to life than emptiness. Everyone feels that way, the difference remaining on what they want to fulfil their lives. It's not easy for everyone. In that aspect, we're all equals. So, they're persons too, who happen to have imperfections as everyone else. – She stopped, downcast. – You must think I'm crazy.

He didn't answer. He simply wouldn't have known what to say, even it he wanted.

And suddenly, her eyes went wide open, and she suppressed a scream with both her hands. «Shit!» And with that, she got up and unlocked the door. Tom Riddle was standing in front of her, sitting on the floor, his eyes somewhat lost. «Double shit, it's him!», she though again.

- Oh, I'm so sorry, I hadn't realised I was talking with someone else… - «Oh great, now he'll definitely think I'm nuts!» - I mean, sometimes I have this habit of mine of talking alone, as it helps me to put things on perspective. I'm so sorry! And you probably wanted to go to the bathroom, and you couldn't, all because of my random ramblings… I'm so, so sorry! – And she truly was. – Gosh, this is so embarrassing!

Tom Riddle slowly got up, trying to put order in his mind. «Act cool», he told himself. And so he did. With his best expressionless face, he looked at her.

- Don't need to be sorry! – He said. That didn't make her feel any better. – But next time you feel like you need to put things in perspective, feel free to talk to _me_.

- Oh, thank you. I must certainly will. – She lied, forcing a smile. Obviously, she would never do it, for she knew he was only being polite, as he always was. – Well, I have to go, now. My friend must be worried.

And she fled away from him – not running, for it would be suspicious – but keeping a fast walking pace.

Tom Riddle, himself, wasn't so sure about his own proposition. Did he really want to listen to her opinions? Obviously, at the beginning he though she was quite silly, rambling alone, then talking to him as if it was only natural that voices would come out of thin air, bothering him with her problems with her friend, and making him wait outside the door when all he wanted was to pee, and there was only one small goddamned bathroom in the whole train. But somehow, he had found himself interested about what she had to say in the end, when they were talking about good and evil.

She was definitely weird. He couldn't imagine of anyone who would have had though of those things the way she did, and that was what had caught his interest. But giving it a second though, she was still a silly mindless girl, who probably had had just a productive moment of something remotely similar to intelligence – no, wait, originality. Besides, he was no one to be pitied. People would have to fear him, not pity him! One day he would show the world how _pitiable_ he was, when he took over everything. Stupid girl.

Obviously, she hadn't talked those things about him. No one knew of his true self, except for his Slytherin comrades. But he had felt it just like the same!

When she was sure he had lost sight of her, she started running, and when she finally found her carriage, Bridget almost pulled off her head. «No one falls asleep peeing on the bathroom!», she yelled, for that had been Skipper's excuse. Eventually, Bridget calmed down, and they started talking again. This time, Skipper really made an effort on keeping focused on what her friend had to say, and truly felt happy for her. Her mind only wondered around one single time, when she looked at the castle of Hogwarts for what had been her first time in months. «Good bye, Summer! Welcome, Autumn!»

Maybe this was, indeed, a new beginning.


	4. Never better off alone

**Chapter 4:** Never better off alone

**Author's notes: **I'm starting to realise how hard it must be for people to get interested in a story in which the main character is an OC and the timeline isn't even the same as in the book, being in Tom Riddle's era and all... Well, I mustn't give up! I was really happy in receiving another review, it meant a lot to me! It's very good to know that at least _someone_ keeps reading. So, thank you very, very much, _I-luv-fulff_!

Oh, and by the way, a happy new year you all! o/

**Disclaimer: **No one's paying for this, ok.?

* * *

Usually, best friends hang around together. That's how things usually work: you make one or two friends with whom you can relate better than with anyone else, and you'll do as most things together as possible. You could almost take that for granted, like if it was some sort of incontestable rule moved by some force of nature. «It's just the way things are», one might say. Well, it probably would be if it wasn't for Skipper and Bridget. Sure, they were best friends, and sure, they always told each other things they wouldn't confess to any other person. But false, they didn't hang around together. Or at least, not enough to fulfil the standards of the conventional best friends.

And that was probably why Bridget had a _second_ best friend, Myrtle Mallory, a small bookworm who did nothing in life than to agree with everything people told her. It was sorta strange. The girl had _no _personal opinions whatsoever. She did everything in life as if it was a History test, or similar: she would read about it, memorise it, and then do it mechanically, right as told in the book. She knew a lot of things, that was for sure, but culture isn't the same thing as intelligence. And since she had no personal opinion, because she would only stick to what she had read, every time someone disagreed with her, she never had arguments to fight back. So, she would either change opinions (talk about manipulation…); or she would blank out in a dilemma, burst in tears, and run away to hide somewhere. Hours later, she would be back again, as if nothing had happened. Skipper disliked the girl with a passion – reason why they were never the three together. Bridget would either be with one of them, or with the other – never the two at the same time. That wasn't a problem, though, because Bridget only hanged around with her second best friend when she wasn't with Skipper, her _real_ best friend. To simplify it: Myrtle was only a substitute, because Bridget didn't like being alone.

Truth is: _Skipper did_, not her. It was her idea that best friends don't have to spend that much time together in the first place. She enjoyed being on her own during her daily exploits. Bridget had been quite dumbfounded when she found out about that, actually.

It had happened after their very first week at Hogwarts. One day, after spending almost 24 hours per 24 hours together, the yet-to-be-removed-birth-mark girl noticed that Skipper had been strangely quiet all day. In fact, she had grown progressively quiet for the last 3 days. In the beginning, it was too subtle to be noticed. Now, it was just plain obvious. She was worried. She had grown very fond of Skipper during the last week, and was afraid she might have done something wrong. 'Till that time, Bridget hadn't been able to keep a real friend for more that just some months, because after a while, people would get tired of her and her criticism. But she had made sure to do best this time, even if sometimes she barely resisted to the urge of vocalize her annoyance – so it couldn't be that. She couldn't even ask, really, too afraid that her much-needed friend would suddenly have a grasp of honesty and just say she couldn't stand her anymore. Even if that was true and Skipper only kept silent out of consideration, it was better to pretend not to notice, and never give her an opportunity to get started on the matter. Ignorance is bliss, and it would keep her a friend, at any costs.

It just happened that on that same day, Skipper had decided that she couldn't let it pass. They were both doing some homework on the library, although none of them was really putting their hearts at it. Skipper was trying to choose the best moment to talk, and sensing that, Bridget tried to pretend being occupied in the hopes that the girl would just give up. Every time the long haired girl looked at her, mouth already open to say something, she would hide her own face in the book. Then, Skipper would close her mouth, bit her lip nervously and mind her own business again. That was getting repetitive. She only hoped she wasn't acting suspiciously.

On the other hand, Skipper was having her own problems. She sympathized with Bridget, so she didn't want her to get with the wrong impression. It wasn't that she didn't like her company – she just didn't felt comfortable with any person for so many hours a day. So, technically, the problem was in _her_, not in _Bridget_. Besides, it wasn't like she fancied being alone all the time, just_ some_ of it. But for some reason, she felt this kind of defensive aura out of Biddy. Maybe she was just annoyed because even after 30 minutes, she still failed to understand the index page of her "_The Wonders of Potions Grade 1 _by Alice Land" book, for she had been looking for it since they arrived. Maybe it had sunk into Bridget that if she couldn't even understand the index of a book, she was pretty much fucked up for the whole year. Skipper felt sorry for her, the girl sure had learning difficulties. «I mean, it's not like I've been turning the pages of my own book, but at least, _I have a reason_», she though, unaware that, pretty much like her, Bridget wasn't really studying.

So suddenly, Skipper decided it was enough. That had been going on for too long. She had to be honest! It wasn't fair neither for her neither for Bridget that she kept going like that. So, suddenly, she simple stood up. «We need to talk», she said, in a determined – but not unkind – voice.

Bridget froze in time. That was it: one week in heaven, then straight back to hell. She was already being called "London Bridge" on her back, so if Skipper wouldn't befriend her, she was pretty sure no one would. She felt like crying, but saved the tears for herself, as she was used to. That wasn't anything she hadn't gone through before, so she should be strong. At least, she would endure it with the dignity that she didn't felt.

- Go on, if you may – She said, slowly turning to face Skipper.

- Look, I don't want you to take on the wrong impression… - «And there it goes again, the false apologies», Bridget though – but truth is… You know… Do we have to hang always the two of us?

- What do you mean? – Bridget asked with cold, defeated voice.

- Well, you see, I'm not used to this "best friends" whole thing.

- Look, if you don't want to be my friend anymore, go right to the spot and let's get over it.

For a moment, Skipper looked at her, too astonished to speak.

- But why would you think I don't want to be your friend anymore?

This was Bridget's time to look dumbfounded at her. She was expecting something amongst the lines of: «Oh, well, now that you know, truth is that…».

- You want? – She asked, unsure.

- Of course! – Skipper replied, her voice somewhat angered. - All I wanted to ask was if we have to hang always together, I mean, between classes and all, all the time, because I really like having some independence.

The way she said it, "independence", went a little harsher than she expected, and Bridget's perception changed.

- Oooh! – She exclaimed, as if understanding what it was all about, at last – _Oooooooh!_ – She repeated – So it's about _you_ keeping your so loved independence! _Why, you're a nerd!_

- Yes, it's… What? I'm a _what_?

- And I was here thinking _I _was the problem… - Bridget muttered to herself. Skipper wondered when it was that she had lost total track of the conversation, because she didn't understand anything at all anymore!

Bridget sure did have a thing for making people feel guilty for things they didn't even know about. Pity that Skipper would only realise that some years later, on a train's bathroom, while supposedly talking alone.

Later on that day, everything was explained. Since Bridget knew she had still her best friend, but only in a _part-time_ way, she got herself thinking of what to do. She wanted a _full time_ friend. She knew Skipper was always at her disposition every time she needed her, but that wasn't enough. She wanted someone as dependent on her as she was of others, after a lifetime of involuntarily loneliness. So she couldn't help being only partially happy on having Skipper's friendship.

Some weeks later, while wandering around in Hogwarts trying to waste time 'till Skipper grew tired of her independence for that day, she heard strong sobbing. Stopping in the middle of the corridor as if to try to distinguish from where the sound came from, she noticed that it was from the girl's bathroom. Intrigued, she decided to go look after the person, already pitying the poor girl, for she made quite a noise. She was greatly amused to find her classmate Myrtle Mallory there. They had never talked much since their first meeting, although they happened to be both on their first year and on the same house – Ravenclaw. In fact, now that she though about it, she hadn't seen Myrtle been talked to by no one. That was sad, for she knew how it felt like! The poor little one was in such a wreck that her face was all red and her eyes puffy, with locks of hair glued to her face with sweat. For a moment, she felt good only contemplating her classmate, satisfied that, for the first time in that school, _someone_ looked worse than herself (it was a good change from Skipper, who was too pretty for _her_ own good). Then, looking through Myrtle scared eyes, she immediately felt like caring for this girl. Here she was, Bridget, a blonde, ugly girl, desperate for company – and there she was, Myrtle, even more miserable and desperate than her. For the first time in her life, Bridget felt protective, and not seeking for protection, as she usually was. It was like being some sort of goddess with incredible powers that could make Myrtle's life immediately happier – if even only by a little – just by giving her a friendly hand and helping her to get up from the cold ground. For Myrtle, it made all the difference in the world, for no one had ever been so nice to her, and she started following Bridget like a pet. They were both extremely happy with the sudden twist of circumstances.

That was something Bridget would never understand about Skipper: her liking to be alone. For her, a person could never be better off alone, and she was glad to have Myrtle by her side. In those moments, Bridget felt like a world apart from her best friend. She knew, not without resentment, that there were things about Skipper that she would never get and that they would never share. She only wondered if someone, someday, would. Someone as lonely and as disjointed from society as the girl.

Skipper felt freer when walking alone than she could ever feel with anyone else. She didn't like the pressure of having someone waiting for her to do her things quickly, as if she had to attend some urgent compromise that would never happen. For her, it wasn't even necessary to have a specific purpose when walking around. She just liked doing it. It was her own moment: no pressures, no critics, no one to mind her business. She could either go to the library and waste her hours looking for books of which no one else would find the slightest interest in reading, or go after the kitchen spend time talking random things with the house elves (some of her favourite creatures in the whole world), or just venture herself into the depths of the castle, uncovering places and secrets unknown for the majority of the students. As long as it didn't bring her trouble, she would go for it.

And today, she decided to go to the library, so she headed to the fourth floor.

Skipper wasn't really looking for a particular book this time. Since she had been a little bored, the girl had felt the urge to have something "different" to read, especially if it was something that could bring her more general culture, as she was constantly eager to learn. Classes were getting too predictable for her taste, so anything would do as long as it ended her tedium.

As always, the library was almost totally empty. The only time in the year when it got more crowded was from midst March up to June, when students began studying for their upcoming exams more seriously, O. W. L. 's and N. E. W. T. 's included. Skipper liked it best that way, because it felt like she had the whole place for herself. Besides, she got along very well with Madam Isleen Veda, the librarian, a very loving and serviceable lady that would go as far as to search herself the books asked for the students, in the hopes of getting them to visit the library more often. She would also be very glad in discussing the contents of some book with them, which she habitually did with Skipper. It was rumoured that Madam Veda had read every single book at Hogwarts, and still remembered all thousands of them and their places in the shelves, as if she had some data-base in her mind; and also that she had been offered a place in the school as a teacher, but had refused, because she wouldn't be able to decide a solo subject to teach, preferring to stay in the library. Skipper, obviously, had never tried to find if some of the rumours were true, since it could be inconvenient. Still, she knew that they were, because Madam Veda herself had told her so by free will, not only that, but pretty much all of her life – including that she was 131 and had been working there for 106 years.

Skipper had a thing for bringing older people into openly talk to her, as if she was one of their own. Funny how that rarely happened with people of her own age.

- Oh hello, dear! How do you do? – Madam Veda came immediately rushing to greet her. For some reason, she seemed excited.

- I'm fine, thanks, and you?

- Same. Oh, I have wonderful news for you! – She said, her eyes shining in anticipation.

- Really? What is it?

- Director Dippet is going to promote a contest in Hogwarts! – The librarian told, arising Skipper's curiosity.

- A contest, you say? – The girl asked, keen for a better explanation.

- Yes! You see, I was talking to professor Dumbledore those days, and eventually I complained about the lack of interest the students felt about the library. Apparently, I got him thinking about it, so he went to discuss it with director Dippet, and they decided to make a contest for students above and including forth year about contents taught in classes!

- But that's great! – Skipper exclaimed, genuinely smiling.

- Yes, it is!

Then suddenly, something struck into Skipper, and she asked, confused:

- But how's that gonna help the library? I mean, I understand that'll bring more students to study here, but what's gonna make them want go enter the contest?

- The prize! – The librarian immediately replied, her sparkling eyes wide open – You see, professor Dumbledore though of everything! For the winning student, there'll be a Medal for Magical Merit, and a little trophy exposed on the trophy room!

- Wow, that's… _Huge_!

- Yes! Obviously, it won't be easy! But I know you can! – Madam said this so (deliberately) fast, that for a moment Skipper didn't realise the implication attached to her own name.

- I believe it… _What_? – She exclaimed in surprise, feeling somehow _déjà vu_. Madam Veda looked at her with this great grin like she was contemplating a sparkling diamond, the chosen one to save the world!

- Why, you're already in your fifth year, aren't you? So you have to enter it! – She said this like if it most obvious, an agreed fact.

Skipper stared at her dumbfounded for a whole minute, 'till finally founding her voice.

- Well, I'm most thankful that you would think of me… - She said cautiously, choosing well her words – But I don't know if I would be capable of…

- Oh, but you would, I know you would! You just have to enter it! Well, I have to go to work now. I'll keep you informed, the official announcement shall occur today at dinner. Bye! – And off she went, muttering happily how kids those days didn't trust themselves. It occurred to Skipper that Madam Veda was acting quite strangely.

«She didn't even offered herself to recommend me a book», the girl though. «I bet she was all speedy because she didn't want to give me the time to refuse!», she concluded, not really annoyed. It was kind of flattering, actually. The worst that could happen was her failing, and that wasn't really trouble, so…

Remembering what had been her purpose into going to the library in the first place, she observed its closest sections. Today, for a change, she decided to go a little further into it, so she traversed randomly the library, reading the name of the sections for which she walked by, hoping that one of them would catch her attention. «Dragons, General Magical Creatures, Non-general Magical Creatures, Flora, Magical Architecture, Architecture in Muggle Communities, Prominent Magical Communities Around the World, (…)», she would silently read to herself. At some point, she stopped midway. «This is getting me nowhere», she though, bored, so she quickly skipped several sections without paying them any attention. Then, she started reading the names again: «History of Magic in English Speaking Countries, History of Magic in European Countries, History of Magic in North and South American Countries, (blah, blah, blah), Genealogy in the Magical World, …»

And as she was about to walk about that section, she mechanically stepped back. Tom Riddle was in there. She wished she could just vanish in the air, recalling, not without a lot of embarrassment, the events upon their meeting at the Hogwarts Express. «Oh my God, what it he noticed me!», she though, desperate, instinctively biting her lower lip.

«Trouble, trouble, trouble», her mind yelled. «Go properly apologize», was the advice of her inner angel. Bastard! She had already done that, so what did he want? To mortify her even more? On the other hand, her inner demon had a different piece of advice: «Just walk away unseen, pretend you didn't saw him!» Now that was better. Unfortunately, it was also too late.

- From where I come from, people usually great each other. – He said, coming in front of her. His voice wasn't really unpleasant, but she could sense her cold eyes through her.

For a moment, the image of the orphanage came into Skipper's mind, but she quickly dropped it.

- Oh, I'm sorry! I though you hadn't noticed me. – Skipper replied.

- Even if I hadn't noticed you, you had most certainly noticed me. – He remarked, with a smirk. No one ever ignored him.

«What's with this guy? I already said I'm sorry!»

- Well, I was occupied. – She said, staring him in the eye. His smirk grew even more, but for a moment, none said nothing.

- I don't think I know your name, _miss_. – Asked Tom, breaking the silence.

- MacAllister. Skipper MacAllister, I mean.

- Skipper, huh? What an unusual name… - He commented. «What kind of name is that?», he though.

- Yeah, I suppose. – She didn't like the way he was talking to her. While he never ceased being cordial, she also felt like he was being condescending, acting slightly superior. And that stupid smirk didn't help.

- Well, I'm…

- I know who you are. – She said aggressively. «You are Tom Riddle, the orphan», she wanted to say, but that would be utter improper. Besides, there was no point in being obnoxious. She had to control her nerves.

A reddish flash passed through Tom's eyes, but as quickly as it came, it faded, along with his smirk. He gave her his hand to shake.

- I don't think we started too well. I hope you accept my apologies. – He said, politely.

Skipper had to take a moment in order to understand the sudden change in his behaviour. She felt increasingly guilty. «Why is he apologizing? I'm the one who should be!», she though, blushing. Her inner angel was putting leads into her conscience (the bastard).

- I'm the one who should be apologizing, Riddle. It was my fault at the train. – She shook his hand. It was bigger that hers. Actually, now that she though about it, everything in him was bigger than her, starting from their heights. She had to stretch her neck in order to look at his face. Gosh, he was handsome. _A lot. _She blushed again. It was dangerous to look his this close.

Now, the inner angel was gone, with the inner demon in its place, tickling her hormones. Son of a …

- Oh, never mind that. It was refreshing to hear you talk, actually. – It wasn't a total lie, after all.

- Oh, thank you. – She said, feeling awkward.

Silence. Awkward silence. Terrible awkward silence. She could almost hear crickets (despite being inside the fourth floor of castle with stone walls).

- So, have you heard about the future contest? – Skipper asked, forgetting that she had been the first student to know.

- What contest? I didn't hear about it.

- Oh, well, the official announcement will be done today. It's about culture, and things we learned in classes.

- Oh! - «Piece of cake», he though, not giving it too many importance. – Well, I probably will, in that case. What about you?

- I will, too. - «My good, we're gonna be rivals!», her mind yelled.

- Hope to see you there, then.

- Me too.

- So, are you looking for some book in particular? – Tom asked politely, not really interested.

- Huh, no… I was just looking around, trying to find anything interesting.

- Well, you don't seem to have found nothing. – He noticed, pointing to her bare hands.

- Yeah, I haven't…

- May I suggest you something? – He spontaneously asked. «Maybe I can play a little with this girl», Tom though.

- Sure! - «Why not?!»

- Follow me. – He ordered, and so she did. They walked through many sections.

Suddenly, they stopped. It was the Psychology section. Tom searched through some of the books, 'till founding the one he was looking for.

- Maybe you can share you personal thoughts on the book after reading it, _Emmy_. – He said, lending her the book.

Skipper looked at it briefly, and then stared into Riddle's expression. There was a scarcely contained mischievous glint in his eyes. Finally taking the book, it read: _The Feeling of the Weak_, by _Louis_ _Abaddon_.

At dinner, Director Dippet suddenly got up and asked for silence. Most students ignored his command, and he had an embarrassing moment trying to control (in vain) the hubbub that was going around in the Great Hall. Unfortunately for him, his presence and position in the school didn't impose the respect it should, and Skipper could see the looks of annoyance and even scorn from the remaining staff at him, feeling a wave of pity for the man. Finally, professor Dumbledore, always helpful, had to intervene and shut the students himself. Again, another embarrassing moment for Dippet, as the noise instantly ceased. Apparently, the Transfiguration teacher was a lot more respected in Hogwarts than the Director himself.

Now that every single pair of eyes of each scholar of each house was focused on him, Dipper cleared his throat, trying to look bossy and important.

- I'm sorry for this brief interruption of your dinner – He started, not really meaning it – but today, I have an important announcement to make. In the following months, we'll be having some contests amongst the students above fourth year in the efforts of promoting the study and culture in Hogwarts. Tomorrow, you may find a poster in you respective common room with the rules and contents of it, so, in order to inscribe yourselves, you only have to do what is told in those posters. Any doubts shall be cleared out with the Head of your House, and, in last instance, with a teacher. The winner will receive a medal, plus a trophy to be exposed in the trophy room. Eventually, participating may even benefit your final grades. The whole Hogwarts team is looking out for you, and we hope we can count on your hard work! You may go on with your supper. – He said, all the while speaking very slowly and surely, as if to create a better effect.

Noise once again took over the entire hall, and students chatted about the contest. Most of them were quite excited by the perspective of having their own trophy exposed on the school for everyone to see, a mark for all eternity. Unconsciously, Skipper looked at the Slytherin table, looking for Tom Riddle. For a moment, they shared eye contact. Then, the boy turned his face to talk with his friends. It had been so fast that Skipper couldn't help but wonder it if had really occurred. Dismissing such thoughts, she focused on her piece of apple pie once again. Bridget had stolen it.


	5. Toxic

**Chapter 5:** Toxic

**Author's notes: **I was so sad I didn't receive one single review last update… You know, it really is important for me, even if you think it isn't. It makes the difference between feeling motivated and feeling useless, like this is a waste of my time, because no one really cares, and this fanfic isn't worth your consideration.

But I don't wanna be fussy, so I'll keep writing. :-) Even if it takes me some time to update! XD

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, just so you know. Only Skipper and Bridget are mine. But I must tell you that you hadn't figured it out yet, you certainly haven't been living in this planet for, what, the last 10 years??! 'Oo

* * *

Today was the first Potions class of the year. Skipper wasn't particularly excited, nor she was apprehensive, but Bridget and especially Myrtle were quite anxious because of it. They were all sited on the same rectangular table, with Myrtle on the far left, Bridget in the middle, and Skipper at her right. On Skipper's right side, there were more students, since the tables were very long – and that was actually why the girl was positioned between her friends and the remaining classmates: because no one ever mocked her, which didn't happen with the two other gals, much to their dismay. In all classes, she would always be sort of a shield, even if it wasn't that efficient… 

They were all waiting for the teacher's arrival, for he had excused himself for some minutes, presumably to go search for something he needed for that class. The students waited in silence, but Skipper could hear little laughs on her back. She prepared herself for what she knew was going to come.

- Hey, _London_ _Bridge_, how did you got that tan? – Someone asked. It was certainly a boy, but the voice was unrecognisable.

- I bet someone mistaked her for a pig and tried to cook her!

- Yeah, and the cooking burnt!

The students laughed, at the exception of Bridget, Skipper and Myrtle. At least, some had the decency to look embarrassed, trying to restrain themselves. Skipper could feel the tension coming from her friend, who was now rigid as a rock, too scared to react. Still, she tried to ignore it.

- But honestly, who do you think would want to _eat_ her? – The same boy continued.

- Maybe a starving family! She's got enough meat to feed a whole city!

- Yeah, but they'd probably have an indigestion later, the poor ones!

More laughs, even more than before.

- Now she's twice a mudblood, with a skin like that! Does she really think that's pretty? Girls should be pearl white!

«Enough is enough», Skipper though. She got up and stared at the culprits, smiling.

- Maybe you'd like to know I was made a prefect recently! – She said, pleasantly. The cynicism was almost palpable.

The boys stared at each other.

- So what? Are you going to punish us? We ain't scared! – One of them said, mockingly.

- Nor do I want you to be. And to prove I'm such a good girl, you can either have some points taken, or you can apologize, right now, in front of everyone, and be forgiven. It's up to you. – She replied, still in that annoying sugary way.

- We're from the same house, you know? You'll be prejudiced too.

- Oh, I don't bother. The Ravenclaw house doesn't need students like you to keep its good reputation. There are plenty of other students more capable and willing to compensate for you incompetence!

- Are you saying we're dumb?

- No, but it seems you felt like I did. Now, why would that be? – She asked, cynicism at its prime, enjoying the sight of the boy's faces turning more and more red, full of fury.

- You…

- 30 points from Ravenclaw! – Announced professor Slughorn, entering in the room just in time to stop the boy from starting to insult Skipper. – And I just don't take more, because Miss MacAllister is also a Ravenclaw and she did very well at her function.

He was carrying a big box, which he placed on his desk. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the teacher immediately cleaned some drops of sweat in his face, whose cheeks were flushed. That made Skipper think that he certainly wasn't the kind of guy to put into much physical exercise. The slightest effort seemed to exhaust him. Horace Slughorn was a man of comfort.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't capable of intimidating his students when they were ill-behaved, and right now he was livid.

- What I have heard from you is inadmissible! This is not way to talk to your classmate! – He reprimanded, looking from boy to boy. Then, he took a look over the whole classroom. – And to think that none of you had the decency to stand up for your classmate! What true friends you lot are! Not even a Slytherin would behave like that, and then people say they're the _mean_ ones!

Skipper briefly wondered just how much had the professor heard. She wasn't the only one. After all, he had been absent during pretty much the whole thing. The image of professor Slughorn hearing silently what had happened in the class and waiting for the best moment to make his grand entrance, box on his hands, almost going down with the weight, amused her. He was known for his fondness on making big impressions on people, but that was too much, even for him.

- You, you, you and you – The professor called, pointing to each of the _culprits_ with his wand – are going to stay and talk to me at the end of the class, so I can give the instructions to your detention. – The boys made an attempt to speak – QUIET! My word, here, is law. – And, as they quickie gave up on the idea, he turned to Skipper – I'd appreciate if you would stay a little longer too, my dear. Now, we shall begin the class! Take your things out of your bags.

Skipper did as told. Organizing her materials in the little space that she had for her in the desk, and opening her own exemplar of the _Flavours and Colours – A Guide for Potion-Making_ book, by _F. F. F._ on the index, she waited for the professor to indicate a page, as also the rest of the class. Slughorn patiently waited 'till every student was done picking up its things. Then, he smiled.

- Today, you won't need your books… – announced the teacher in a playful way. – …for we will have a different, more imaginative class.

Silent made its way into the students. Never had they had a potions class without their books, and to say they were a little reluctant at getting them away was an understatement. _Maybe professor Slughorn was just joking? He sure was a spirited man!_

- Guard them! – Slughorn ordered, suddenly, and the students got off their stupor.

- But professor, what are we going to do? – Asked one girl, anxiously.

- Improvise. – He simply said.

Myrtle, who was just about to put her book into her bag, instinctively embraced it, already missing its support for what would come. Bridget noticed it, and shared a look of compassion and mutual understanding with her friend. «Be strong», she whispered, and courageously, the both of them saved the books.

- As I've said, today we're going to improvise. As you well know, this year you'll have the O. W. L.'s, which are a very important part of your career as a student. Succeed, and you'll be rewarded later. Fail and you're not worth my consideration. That being, I think it's good you start to take school seriously, and that means – at this, Slughorn made a pause for suspense – **real** work!

«Real work? What does he think we've been doing these years?», whispered a student to a fellow classmate, feeling frustrated. The other nodded in agreement.

- Maybe you think you already know what real work feels like – Slughorn continued, not speaking to anyone in particular, but making each student feel like he had read their thoughts – but truth is: you don't! And today, you'll only have a grasp of it, for this is the beginning of an intensive training over the course of the year. Mission: success. And by success, I mean no lower than "Exceeds Expectations".

«Is he nuts?», Bridget though. That was probably the only time in which the majority of the class actually agreed with her, unknowingly.

- So, and since I'm sure most of you did nothing worthwhile related to school this summer and had your brains washed out by other useless activities, I think we're in need of good refreshment, more like shock treatment. – Then, he again made a pause for suspense, observing how the students digested the information, enjoying the effect of his words.

His eyes had a mischievous glint, and Skipper had a brief reminiscence of Tom Riddle himself. _Maybe that was a common thing for Slytherins?!_

Timidly, she raised her hand. Slughorn looked at her, and gave a little nod.

- Teacher, with all due respect, could you please tell us precisely what our task is?

- Glad someone is showing some interest, at last. Thank you for asking, my dear. – He commented. – Basically, you have to make a potion! – Slughorn explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. _And it was._

«That much we know», Bridget though, but Skipper wasn't satisfied with the answer.

- Yes, but could you tell us what potion are we supposed to do? – The girl once again asked, voicing the question in everyone's mind.

- See, that's the imaginative point! – Slughorn replied, in a strange cheerful way – It's up to you! It's completely up to you! You're to make whatever potion you want, and for that, I brought a box full of ingredients that were in fault on the shelves. Obviously, since you're not allowed to use your textbooks, you'll have to pick up a potion you know by memory, almost like if you were making the O. W. L.'s themselves.

Suddenly, every student blanked out.

- Any doubt? – Slughorn asked, and slowly, a Hufflepuff boy raised his hand. – Yes…?

- Can we make potions learned on any year we want?

- If you're asking if you can make potions from as far as the ones learned on your first year, yes, the answer is yes. – Slughorn replied, coldly. – But keep in mind that if I'm giving you such a task, it's because I want to test your true knowledge, and not what you can do reading from a textbook. Thus, if you're already in you fifth year, do know that I'll be highly deceived if all you can make is a first year potion. I don't want students who are dependable on anything but themselves! I want to be impressed! And I will be severe.

- Can we work in groups? – asked Sutton Pierce, a Ravenclaw boy.

- I'd prefer you not. But you can work on pairs, at the most. – And since no more hands were raised, Slughorn ordered for the chore to begin.

Immediately, the whole classroom was filled with the voices from students, making up pairs and arguing on the potions to be made.

- Hey, do you want to pair up with me? – Bridget pleasantly asked to Skipper, deliberately ignoring Myrtle who was hoping to be asked the same.

- Oh, I'm sorry Biddy, but I'd like to do this individually. I can give you tips on your potion, though. – Skipper replied.

- That'd be cool, thanks… - The girl said, not so pleased anymore. She slowly turned to Myrtle, then – So, you want to pair up with me?

- Sure! – Myrtle replied happily, contrasting with Bridget's resigned tone.

- Do you have any ideas? – Bridget asked Myrtle, to which her smile instantly vanished – No need to answer, I got the message.

Skipper could remember a number of good potions, but she was having trouble in deciding one. She wanted to do something useful, even if it wasn't for her to take. Then suddenly, an idea came to her.

As for Bridget and Myrtle, they were still in an impasse.

- So, what do you think of making a Boil Cure Potion? – Bridget asked her partner.

- Great! – Myrtle agreed.

- And if it was a Beautification Potion instead?

- That's great too!

- And what about a Hiccupping Solution?

- It works just great for me.

- Don't you have any preference? Isn't there anything you really want to make, a single suggestion? – Bridget asked at last, feeling exasperated.

- No. – Myrtle replied, with all its simplicity – I'll do whatever you think it's best!

- Talk about having no personal opinion… - Bridget murmured much to herself, slightly annoyed.

She looked over to Skipper cauldron, in which her friend was already mixing blue feathers with something she couldn't identify. Looking closer, she felt a little disgusted.

- Are those black beetles?

- Yes – Skipper replied, cutting one's head.

- That's gross… - Commented Myrtle, taking a look.

- Whoever asked your opinion? – Skipper shouted. – Besides, you're running out of time, so it would be better if you could mind your own work.

- Yeah, that's true, Myrtle. – Bridget agreed. – I'm always the one who has to decide on anything. Today it's your turn. Pick up a potion already!

Myrtle stared at her friend, pathetically.

- Stop making that expression, it makes you look dumb! – Bridget criticized. – No wonder people mock you sometimes!

That didn't help, and now Myrtle was getting really nervous. They stared at each other for what was like five minutes, when Biddy noticed Myrtle's eyes were already getting humid.

- Ok., I'll decide again. A Beautification Potion is on the way. – She concluded, feeling resigned. – But you'll pick the ingredients on that box!

Several minutes later, Slughorn announced it was time for everyone to stop. Skipper was already done, as well as Bridget and Myrtle, so they didn't freak out as some of their classmates, who desperately kept putting things into their cauldrons in order to finish the potion in time for the teacher to check on it.

- Now, I want you to transfigure a small flask of glass and to pour some of your potions into it. Then, walk in a row to my desk. When your time is due, tell me about your potion and prove a little of it so I can see if it's well done. Quick! – He instructed.

Myrtle transfigured her flask, but when she was about to fill it with the liquid of the Beautification Potion, it fell off her hand right into the cauldron. She watched, with terror, as the glass melted with the concoction, making small bubbles. It was very fast, and since Bridget was too distracted momentarily talking to Skipper, Myrtle took the opportunity to transfigure another flask of glass unnoticed, hoping there would be no side-effects.

- So, already done? – Bridget asked, suddenly turning to see their potion – Why, you haven't filled it yet, how sluggish! Here, let me do it!

Slowly, the students organized themselves into a row, waiting patiently. Slughorn started to check on the potions, making bitter or pleasant comments according to his evaluation. «Very well», he said, «Could never expect less from you, Sutton!». Other students were not as fortunate, though. «This is terrible!», the professor commented on Olive Hornby's. «And you call yourself a fifth grader? Even a first year would do better!».

Finally, it was Skipper's time.

- So, Miss MacAllister, what do you have for me? – Asked Slughorn, with a smile.

- I decided on a Memory Potion, sir.

- Oh, terrific idea! Could you give a brief explanation to your classmates?

- Sure. The basis of a Memory Potion recipe is always the same, but in order to obtain a longer and better effect, it's possible to add certain ingredients that will help to enhance the memory of its drinker. There are also several tricks that can be performed, only known but true potion makers. That being, it's highly difficult to manage a long during Memory Potion, besides taking many days. The most basic form on a Memory Potion only lasts one hour, but since it's fast to make, it's also the most known. Memory Potions are also forbidden in schools, because students tend to use it in order to cheat on their exams. Not only that, but since the misjudge of such powerful mixture is very dangerous, authorities discourage its routinely use.

- Very well, my dear. Now, try it. I shall make you some questions next.

Feeling confidant, Skipper gulped it, instantly feeling hot inside.

- Now, recite the ingredients of the Polyjuice Potion. – Slughorn asked.

- Lacewing flies stewed 21 days, leeches, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed picked at full moon, shredded boomslang skin and a bit of who one wants to turn into.

- Very well. Now, explain the procedures. – And as Skipper recited them clearly and without the slightest trouble, Slughorn felt convinced. – Very, very well my child! – He beamed in pride – You did wonderfully! I'm very impressed, my dear. Not even some seventh year students can perform such a potion as successfully as you did! Keep it up, and don't forget to wait after class finishes. I definitely want to talk to you.

- Thank you, sir. – Skipper said, smiling.

Now, it was Bridget and Myrtle's turn.

- So, could you talk to me about your potion?

- Yes – Bridget said – It's a Beautification Potion. Basically, they're used to conceal and, more specifically, beautify one's true form, although it can never have a permanent effect. The Beautification Potion was invented by Sacharissa Tugwood, and famed by hag Malodora Grymm, who was an expert on those. Now, we shall drink it. Do you want to do it, Myrtle?

Bridget wanted, by no means, to embarrass her friend, for she actually felt confidant about their work. She had asked Myrtle to prove it in order to get the girl to participate in the demonstration, so Slughorn could see that they shared their tasks, just as a working pair is supposed to do, and since Bridget had had the initiative to talk about the potion, it was only natural that Myrtle would drink it. In normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem for Myrtle, who usually just did as Bridget told. But she hadn't forgotten about the falling flask, and thus felt a little apprehensive.

- Huh… No, thank you. – Myrtle cowardly declined, her voice barely audible.

This surprised Bridget, who was used for her second best friend to always do as told. _Maybe she wanted Bridget to drink the potion so she would enjoy the temporary beauty enhancement? Maybe it was for altruistic purposes? Such a good girl!_

Thinking that way, the blonde gal drank it. It had a strange but not distasteful flavour, and she felt ticklish inside. That sensation grew enormously and now she could hardly restrain herself from laughing. Before Bridget noticed what was happening, for a slip second her eyes met with Myrtle's, which had a nervous look that irritated her. _Why had Myrtle to be always concerned over everything? They had done a good potion! _And then, all Bridget could see was pink, pink smoke covering the whole lot from her head to her feet, while she started compulsively sneezing, because the gas was getting off her very nose, which felt like it was about to explode with ticklish feelings. Now, even her skin felt that way, and she started laughing along with her classmates, although she didn't know what was making them laugh as well. That kept going on for some minutes, 'till the smoke started to fade and she was back on her normal state of mind again. Laugher grew amongst the students, and now Bridget was too conscious to let it go that easily. _What were they so amused about? She felt good, so it should have worked…_

- Oh my God, Bridget, look at you! – Skipper said, in shock! She wasn't laughing, nor was Myrtle or professor Slughorn. Actually, they all seemed quite uncomfortable.

Slughorn transfigured a mirror, and gave it to Bridget. With utter shock, she observed her face. It was all disfigured with pink blisters everywhere, some of them really big. Instinctively, the poor girl looked over to her hands, which also had been affected. Probably, her whole body was covered with those things, and Bridget felt revulsion of herself. She turned back to face her classmates, and they kept on laughing. No one would dare to insult her this time, since the teacher was there, but their scorn was enough to deeply hurt her. Once again, she had been humiliated in front of everyone.

Desperately, she run off the room, and Skipper followed her. Myrtle was too mortified to even move, already feeling tears in her eyes.

- Bridget, WAIT! – Skipper cried, running as fast as she could. – BRIDGET, WAIT FOR ME! BRIDGEET! – But it was useless, for her friend had already disappeared somewhere. It was not the first time something like that happened, and she always managed to hide unknown.

- What happened? – Asked professor Dumbledore, coming out of a classroom in where a class of his was being taught.

- Oh, I'm sorry, professor! I really didn't mean to disturb! – The girl excused herself, nervously. – I'm just looking for my friend, Bridget.

- Aren't you supposed to be in class?

- Yeah, Potions, but something went very wrong and Bridget run away.

Dumbledore didn't have to ask anything more. Potions class and a student running away? Surely, the experiment had had very bad results. _Poor girl… Those classes could be quite traumatic, sometimes._

- Is she injured?

- Yes, sir…

- Then maybe she'll show up later in the Hospital Wing. – Dumbledore suggested, reassuringly.

- Well, I definitely hope she does… - Skipper commented, biting on her lower lip nervously.

- Be calm. Whatever you need, you can count on me.

- Thank you sir. – She smiled this time, truly grateful for his kind words.

- Well, I think I can dismiss you now, since it's almost time for classes to be over. But as for me, I still have homework to give, so if you could excuse me…

- Oh, yes, professor Dumbledore. And thank you one more time!

- You're welcome. – And with that final statement, he left, and Skipper, being all alone in the corridor, had to wonder again where Bridget was, whishing she was not feeling too bad…

Later in the library, Skipper simply sat alone at one desk, resting her head on her arms, eyes closed, enjoying the loneliness. Bridget was still nowhere to be found, and the girl knew too well than to keep looking for her, predicting it would be as useless as ever. So, she just waited, as she always did. When time was due, Bridget would show up again with regained forces to fight back the humiliation.

Then, she heard footsteps. Someone was coming closer, but she wasn't curious. Finally, Skipper sensed that same person sitting next to her, but pretended to ignore it.

- Skipper…? – A trembling voice called, softly. «Myrtle», she immediately recognized, keeping on pretending to be asleep. – I know you're awake. – Myrtle remarked, but she still had no response.

«I'm blatantly ignoring you, can't you see it?», Skipper though.

- Well… - It seemed as if Myrtle was just about to say something else, but she ended giving it up – Ok., do as you please. I'm used to your mistreatment, anyway. And besides, it's not like you know more that me about Bridget's location, even being such best friends. – The girl concluded, with a hint of sarcasm in her last words.

Skipper sensed it. Not only that, but she could also tell just how much Myrtle had always resented her friendship with Bridget, aware of her position as a "substitute". Instead of feeling sorry or compassionate, her animosity grew bigger, for Skipper despised such feelings as jealousy.

Myrtle started to moan muffled sounds that she didn't even care to try to understand, but deeply irritated the girl nonetheless. «And I came here for quietness!», she though.

- Oh… - Myrtle whined, at some point – I'm really worried about Bridget, now! I'm really, really worried. I always worry on her, even when she's a little insensitive. Why did she have to take on that stupid potion? Oh! This is so terrible, and I feel so guilty! Why do I always have to feel bad?!

_Guilty?_ Suddenly, Myrtle had sparked Skipper's interest, which instinctively opened her eyes.

- Oh! I'm so worried! – Myrtle continued to cry – All because of a stupid flask of glass, the damn thing! Oh, I should have been more careful! Bad Myrtle!

- What are you talking about? – Skipper asked, startling Myrtle.

- So you're really awake!

- Were you that purposely changed the potion?

- Why, no! I would never do it on purpose! – She tried to excuse herself, backing the chair away from her opponent.

- So it was you! – Skipper accused, angry.

- But it wasn't on purpose! It fell off my hand and there was nothing I could do about it! – Her voice was so wobbly and shrieking that Skipper felt even angrier.

- You refused to drink it! You made Bridget drink it instead!

- D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! What would happen if I drank a toxic Beautification Potion? I didn't know what to do!

- And you choose to injure your best friend instead, the only person in the whole school who actually tolerates your presence! Toxic is what YOU are, a MEAN person, a MEAN friend!

- NO! – Myrtly cried, sobbing.

- IT'S YOUR UGLINESS OUSTIDE PEOPLE KEEP TEASING YOU ABOUT! SATISFIED?

- GO TO HELL!

- _YOU'LL BE THERE FIRST!_

And with that, Skipper stormed out of the library, livid. She despised Myrtle more that ever. Had she known what was about to happen to the girl next in the year, maybe she would have been more understanding, but right now, all she could think about was in a way to calm herself.

As for Myrtle… She just stood there, lying on the floor, moaning on how miserable she was… As always.


End file.
